


What You Pay For

by megyal



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-09
Updated: 2008-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt given by <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/irena_adler/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/irena_adler/"><strong>irena_adler</strong></a> for <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/"><strong>rounds_of_kink</strong></a>: <em>Matt has trouble getting work after the Fire Sale, so turns to being a rentboy. John finds out and is desperate to get him out of it.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Pay For

John saw the kid in some restaurant as he was driving by on rounds; it was by complete chance that he turned his head at a stoplight and saw Farrell, lounging back in a chair near the window. He looked skinnier, which was kind of shocking, because the kid wasn't exactly meaty in the first place. The kid turned his head and looked right into John's face and that was another huge surprise, because the kid's eyes were cool. No, scratch that. The kid's eyes were a New York winter, hard and freezing.

John parked the fucking car.

"May I help you, sir?" The maître d' asked as he stepped in, a guy with this pencil-thin mustache and similarly deconstructed eyebrows. He cast a doubtful eye on John's attire. "Do you have a reservation?"

"I just want to talk to somebody," John said, and when the maître d' opened his mouth, he whipped out his badge and backed it up with a hard stare. "It's not gonna be a problem, right?"

"No," the maître d' said in a _fuck-you_ tone of voice, "No problem at all, Officer."

John gave him a mocking tilt of his head, and sauntered past the round tables, where glittering women and men in dark suits stared at his leather jacket and jeans. He arrived at the table where Matt was seated and just kind of _loomed_ as the kid continued to stare out the window, as if John wasn't standing there at all.

"Yes?" Someone else asked smoothly, and John gave this someone a long look out of the corner of his eye; this urbane dude had his slender fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine-glass as he regarded John with a mixture of annoyance and suspicion. John raised his eyebrows, flicking a sharp glance over his well-tailored, dark clothing. The man raised his own eyebrows in return. "Is there something you require?" His English was softly accented, but impeccable. For some reason, this pissed John off, but he tamped down on his temper. The therapist back at the station was always on his damned case about that shit.

"I need to talk to Hack Boy here," he said and the kid snorted, shaking his head slightly. He was still gazing out the window and John felt like taking hold of his shoulders and kind of shake him, maybe ask what's so fucking interesting out there, anyway.

"Are you another client of Matthew's? If so, you'll simply have to wait for your own appointment." The guy's thin lips twisted into a bare smile. "After all, I've paid quite a good amount for his company tonight."

"The _fuck_ are you talking about?" John snapped, honestly confused, and a woman at a nearby table made a shocked sound. He looked at the kid's face, the sharp curve of his cheek, the faint blush creeping along that pale skin and suddenly, he got it. "Kid, what are you--"

"This is Detective McClane," the kid said in strained tones. "He's not a client of mine, Mr. Tanaka."

"Oh?" Tanaka raised his glass, sipping slowly as he continued to stare coolly at John, who was blinking down at the kid. "I see. Is he a disapproving relative? Your father?"

"Um, no." The kid sounded incredulous, finally turning to face them. He turned that cold gaze up at John, who decided that it didn't suit the kid, at all. "He's just someone I used to know."

"Come on," John said firmly. "I want to talk to you outside, kid."

"Let it be on your own time," Tanaka said and got to his feet. He was unexpectedly tall, towering a whole head over John. He leaned close to John, who didn't give an inch; Tanaka's smile was predatory. "Matthew here is my most favorite when I visit the United States. I would rather our time be uninterrupted."

"Yeah?" John smiled too, 'cause whatever this Tanaka dude thought he could throw, John was sure he could bat it right out of the damn park. He was as certain as taxes about that shit. "Funniest thing: I got this _talent_ for interrupting." Obviously, the kid remembered this talent too, and he seemed to throw off that uninterested air and rise up out of his seat with a little more speed than his former lethargy indicated. He placed his hand on Tanaka's chest, fingers splayed wide against the dark material.

"I'll just be five minutes, Mr. Tanaka," the kid said, and his voice dipped to this low, sultry level that had John staring again. His eyes were warm and promising, and Tanaka put his hand briefly over the kid's, before nodding curtly and taking his seat again. "Let's go outside, Detective."

_Detective? _John glared at the kid's retreating back.

Tanaka peered at his menu and said, very casually, "Five minutes, Detective. Matthew and I have further business to… carry out."

"Right. Hopefully, something I can arrest you for." He made sure Tanaka saw that particular threat in his eyes, before spinning on his heel and sailing on out.

"I know you have a lighter somewhere on you," the kid called as soon as John exited. He was leaning a little ways down on the brick façade, one cigarette loosely held between the first and second fingers of his left hand.

"I didn't know you smoked, kid," John muttered even as he pulled his lighter out and snapped out a flame, cupping it as the kid came close, brushing his hair back. His face was illuminated briefly by the yellow glow of the flame, and his eyes locked with John's, holding the stare even as he straightened up and blew smoke out the side of his mouth.

"Yeah," the kid said softly. "Picked up a lot of bad habits in four years, you know?"

Four years. John had endured awards, transfers, transfers _back_, Lucy's engagement, refusal of promotions and now the kid was in the middle of some shitty career move. The kid he swore he'd keep tabs on, because of what they'd been through, and life... it just got in the way. He could almost hear Holly's dry voice in his head, _life is what happens when you're making other plans, buddy._

"I know what you're going to say." The kid exhaled smoke again, tossing some of his dark hair out of his eyes. He looked the same, but there was something so fundamentally different about him; it was probably the complete lack of that quick grin. "I don't want to hear it."

"The _fuck_ do you mean, you don't want to hear it?" John fumed and in a fit of disbelieving anger, he grabbed the cigarette and flung it away. "Kid. _Matt_\--"

"Thing is, I got a name after the fire sale, you know?" The kid folded his arms and stared at the dark surface of the road. "A _big_ name. Some companies can't handle something like that. Or won't."

John pressed his lips tightly together.

"Or," Matt continued, raising one shoulder in a fluid movement. "They didn't agree with what I did. Trust issues, you know?" His eyes caught John's again, and a faint smile touched his mouth. "Either way, it's not your problem, McClane. I'm good."

John would have never thought that hearing something like that would sting so much. He felt as if the kid had shot him or something; he stared right into those big brown eyes, and then nodded slowly. "You're probably right," he finally ground out and Matt blinked at him in surprise, before composing his face in that new mask John was steadily building an aversion to. "I mean, you're a big boy. You can take care of yourself, you know?"

There was a flash of something in the kid's dark eyes, and then he nodded, straightening up from the wall and brushing past John as he went back inside the restaurant.

* * *

This was some crazy stuff John was getting himself into, but he kept seeing the kid's eyes, that sharp flash that carried with it a sense of mourning and loss. John, who was what Holly called _a sucker for distress_, braved the internet. All those escort companies had these binders, right? And Matt wouldn't be somebody who went low-tech. So, he nonchalantly used the computer, the one on Detective Soto's desk, putting in his name and a password he hadn't used since he got it. He wrinkled his forehead and laboriously typed out a search term.

"What you looking for?" Soto asked curiously, peeking over his shoulder. Soto was a decent cop, nice guy, but he tended to be on the nosy side. "Nice, John. Get you some action, big boy. Pretty dumb of you to be using the precinct computer, though."

"What?" John stared up at him and then shook his head. Too late now. "I'm looking for a missing person," he lied efficiently, and it wasn't even a lie anyway, because the kid he knew was gone. "For a friend of mine. Their son. They think he might be doing this to earn a living, you know?"

"Yeah?" Soto dragged up a seat and peered at the screen. John pursed his lips. "Man, you type like my grandmother... nah, my gran types better than this."

"Could you fuck off?" John snapped, clicking quickly through pictures. "Gimme a minute, I'll be off the damn machine soon."

"Very professional," Soto remarked as John went to another site. "They even got locations. Look at that, you can get someone in Asia, Australia. New York. Jersey... big business."

"Yeah, oldest in the world." John went through another gallery, and nearly missed what he was looking for, mainly because the picture was slightly blurred, and at an odd angle; but it was the kid. His head was bent forward, dark hair falling into his eyes as a faint smile curled at one corner of his mouth; not a very informative photo, but it was him, alright. The name above the picture, however, was quite interesting: Matthew J. McClane.

Well. Imagine that. John could feel the weight of the other detective's stare on the side of his face.

"_That's_ your boy?" Soto asked softly. He was eying the photo with great interest, and giving John questioning glances. John chose to ignore these; wouldn't do any good now, anyway, and besides, Soto could be discreet when he wanted to be.

"That's him." John clicked on the photo, scanning the information that appeared. Age, weight, height... people put all this online? And an email address. John took it down quickly, browsing the little blurb at the very bottom of the page, which stated that direct phone-calls would be handled as priority. The phone-numbers were hidden, though, _for members only_, and he turned to Soto.

"Send him a message for me," he finally said in a heavy voice. "One of those email things. I have one, I guess, but he sees it, he'll probably ignore it, or disappear."

Soto was raising his eyebrows, high enough to almost touch his hairline, but he simply asked, "What should I say?"

"You want to... make an appointment." That felt so sour in his mouth. "Dinner."

Soto was nodding slowly as he logged in. He didn't use his official email, but some other one as he quickly typed out a request and location. John's estimation of Soto, already high, went even higher, and he nodded his thanks as he closed down his email. This... this felt wrong, but John just wanted to do something. He _had_ to do something, no matter what the kid said.

* * *

"Fuck," Matt said as he sat across from John at this small restaurant, his eyes dark and angry. "What the fuck, McClane."

"I made an appointment," John pointed out and tugged on his tie. "I even put on this stupid noose for you. Least you can do is tell me hello."

The kid's response had been a few days after Soto had sent out his email, a brisk note saying where they could meet after payments had been agreed on. He was glad that Matt had chosen this busy restaurant. Good, he wasn't being _completely_ stupid about meeting a total stranger.

"Hello," Matt gritted out and smiled tightly. "So. What can I do for you?"

"First thing, you can stop doing... this," John said curtly, waving one hand around. Matt gave him a sour glance. "Seriously, kid, you can do better."

Matt's face flushed and he pressed his lips tightly together. He leaned forward in his seat. "What would you know about me doing better, Detective?"

"Don't fucking call me that," John snapped, feeling dismay twist in his stomach. "People only call me that when they're pissed at me or afraid. You either of those things?"

Matt exhaled slowly and then shrugged, giving the waiter a small smile as he approached with the menus. John looked at him closely as he perused the leather-bound menu, watching how Matt pursed his lips, how under his eyes were dark.

"Saw your portfolio," John said quietly as the waiter took their orders and scurried off. "And the name you're using. Why'd you choose mine, kid?"

"It's a good name." Matt's gaze was unsettlingly direct and one corner of his mouth tilted in a wry smile. "You don't want me using it? I was going to use 'John Matthews', but that was a bit too much, you know?"

"What about your parents, Matt?" John said abruptly; Matt tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Couldn't you... you can go back and stay with them until you get something else. You never thought of that?"

"Of course," Matthew said with a sharp laugh. "_Thought_ about it, yeah. But... let's just say that I left my parents' house with every intention of not going back. That's not an option, Detective. John," he amended as John's expression darkened. "John," he repeated slowly and his voice took on that new sensuous slide, a murmur full of promises. "You're paying a lot of money just to be sitting here, talking."

"Talking is all I'm interested in." John fixed him with a piercing stare even as their soup arrived, placed steaming in front of them. Matt shrugged, picking up his spoon and twirling it through the hot liquid.

"Sure about that?" He brought up a spoonful and pursed his lips, blowing gently. John watched, feeling mesmerized as the kid sipped and his tongue slipped out to run quickly over his upper lip. "I can do a lot more than _talk_, let me tell you."

John stared at him incredulously, and then shook his head. "I don't want it like that, kid."

"Like _what_? What does that have to do with anything?" Another sip, another swipe of the tongue. "You pay, I deliver. It's just business. Get your money's worth."

John had never seen red before without the benefit of blood streaming in his eyes, or explosions in his face. Right now, he was literally _seeing red_, a haze of crimson in which he suddenly had a clear image of Matt writhing underneath some random guy, lips parted as he arched into an anonymous touch. He blinked angrily to clear the image; Matthew was looking at him closely.

"What?" Matt reached out and touched John's clenched fist. "What is it?"

"Nothing." John moved his hand away, grabbing his spoon. "Eat, kid. Eat."

* * *

"Nice," Matt remarked as he stepped inside John's apartment, looking around the small, cluttered space. "I like it."

John grunted in reply as he closed the door, going over to pick up some magazines that had fallen on the ground beside the sofa. Hands ran quickly down his back, going around to rest on his hips, and John spun around, stumbling back in surprise at the kid's proximity. He sat down hard on the sofa, and Matt moved quickly, straddling John as his knees pressed into the sofa on the outside of John's thighs. He grabbed onto John's tie and pulled him forward.

"Wha--" John managed right before Matt's lips pressed firmly against his. John refrained from struggling, and went as still as he could, letting the kid kiss him. After a few moments, Matt pulled back, looking down in John's face.

"I don't want this, Matt," John told him quietly. He kept his hands where they were, braced on either side of himself, although they were itching to rise and settle on the kid's narrow hips. "This isn't why I brought you home."

Matt leaned forward again, taking John's face in an oddly gentle movement; his fingers brushed over John's cheeks, then his thumbs. Soft touches, giving rise to goosebumps on John's skin as Matt cupped his face and looked in his eyes, a smile curling his lips, small yet genuine and warm. John stared up at him. Here he was; this was the kid John knew, or thought he knew. Just a brave kid who made a mistake and did the best he could to fix it. There he was, and John was so fucking _happy_ to see him, that he let the kid kiss him again, and felt surprise at the moan that shivered past his lips. Was that from him? Or from Matt? John had kissed another guy once, when he was Matt's age and going a little insane over life. That time, it had been kind of rough, the both of them drunk as well and fighting for dominance more than kissing. Right now, Matt's mouth was perfectly right against his, giving and taking in balanced proportions and John's chest felt tight as he wondered how many people Matt had kissed to be as good as that.

Matt pulled away just a little as he broke the kiss, a bare breath away. "Why'd you bring me here, then?" His lips brushed against John's as he spoke.

"To keep you out of trouble. Even for a little while." John realized that one of his hands had broken rank and was petting the kid's hip; he let it do what it wanted.

"You did that once already." Matt was smiling against his mouth, moving his head so slightly from side to side; it tickled a little, the way Matt's lips were hardly touching his. John felt himself getting hard at this. "You don't need to save me, you know."

Matt kissed him again, deeper this time, slower, convincing John to return it.

"I don't usually kiss," Matt muttered at one point, maybe at that time when he was hurriedly undoing the zip of John's jeans, slipping his hand inside. "No matter how much they want to pay. You can't pay for something like that, kissing is... _different_."

"And I'm clean," Matt whispered at another moment in time, maybe when he was sliding down between John's legs, going on his knees to the floor as he pressed his thighs apart. He tugged down the waist of John's boxers, smiling at the eagerly erect cock as he curled his hand around it, rubbing the pad of his thumb through the clear liquid that seeped from the head. "You?"

"Matt," John croaked, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of his cock pulsing in that sure hand. Time seemed to be going so slow, and things were getting out of hand. John was a man who could deal with crazy situations, but this felt surreal, the way the kid's dark head was poised so comfortably near his dick. "This is not what I had in mind."

"Of course you didn't." Matt bent forward and touched his tongue to the underside of John's cock, tracing a serpentine pattern right up. "I'm a man of principles, John. You get what you pay for."

John reached down and threaded his fingers through all that hair, inky against his skin. He tightened his hand into a loose fist, trying to pull the kid's head back and away from his cock without hurting him, but Matt still went at it, sucking delicately at the flared head even as John's hand trembled in his hair.

_You get what you pay for_, echoed in his head as his hips moved up into that warm mouth, pumping slowly. _You get what you pay for, you get what you pay for_, and such fantastic suction around his dick, and John felt like a fucking weak pansy, breathing hard as he thrust into that warm mouth. He had wanted to save the kid... and fucked it up instead. Typical, McClane, just _typical_, and he was tensing and coming hard, almost grimacing at the rush of it all.

You get what you pay for.

* * *

He had opened the sofa-bed and dragged the kid in it with him, curling around him protectively, but he woke up at the soft click of his apartment door, the sky going gray with dawn outside his windows, and Matt was already gone.

_fin_.

ETA: [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/karmenghia/profile)[**karmenghia**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/karmenghia/) wrote a teeny sequel [here](http://megyal.livejournal.com/203233.html?thread=4870881#t4870881), you might want to check it out!

ETA 2: [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/crownglass39/profile)[**crownglass39**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/crownglass39/) wrote another awesome part! [Payment With Interest](http://crownglass39.livejournal.com/99121.html).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Payment With Interest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/564035) by [crownglass39](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownglass39/pseuds/crownglass39)




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